I will be starting a part-time job this coming weekend and had to spend last weekend in a training class in Chicago.
I left my house at noon on Friday and didn't get home until about 2am Sunday night/Monday morning.
Way, way, way too many hours without seeing my babies. Hubby was good about sending pictures but pictures are not the same as holding them.
I was ok until I got a panicked call from hubby because the Engineer had spiked a fever of 102 and he had no idea what to do. Although I purchase generic over the counter drugs I use brand names when talking about them. Advil is much easier to say than ibuprofen and ditto for Tylenol over acetaminophen.
Hubby was stressed which stressed me out and I began to panic. I don't panic often but this was utterly out of my control and I was freaked. In giving him directions I resorted to the easier to say brand names and he replied that there was not Tylenol.
O. M. G. Seriously!
I'm pretty sure that he's the only person in the world that doesn't know that acetaminophen is the generic of Tylenol. I tried to do my best to not yell into the phone.
I failed.
After a few minutes (he had to write down the directions) we switched from phone to FaceTime and when the Stuntman realized that mommy wasn't going to be coming out of the phone he began to cry which touched a cord in me had me choking back tears. It was awful. After saying goodbye and hanging up I sobbed uncontrollably for about 10 minutes. Every tear that I had fought back since noon that day cascaded down my cheeks.
I pulled myself together, remake-upped my face and went downstairs to grab some dinner and prepare for the weekend training. Despite my having a good time, my hubby and my boys were on my mind the entire time. Frequently throughout the weekend I would pull up pictures of the boys just so I could see them.
We never did the FaceTime thing again. It was just too much for the boys (translation: I couldn't handle it!). As it was if hubby put me on speaker the Stuntman would cry when I'd say goodbye. It really sucked being out of town.
But, I survived the weekend.
Hubby had to get up and go to work Monday morning so he was in bed when I arrived home at 2 a.m. As I headed upstairs I noticed that he'd left the outside light on and when I went to the backdoor to turn it off I discovered that hubby had made a heart in the snow in the backyard.
He'd purposely left the light on so I would see it.
He's such a sweet guy!
I made my way up the stairs, peeked in on the boys, brushed my teeth and crawled into bed next to the love of my life.
Showing posts with label cry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cry. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Sunday, December 22, 2013
HELLO!!!
I've discovered that there is a very distinctive succession of events that lead to tears.
It usually goes like this: Thump, "Whoa!" and then screaming.
This doesn't happen just anytime, it happens when my hubby is with the boys. They love to play with daddy and daddy loves to play with them. The problem is that they get so wound up they lose the ability to control their movements and he doesn't always know when to stop.
The perfect example of this happened yesterday while I was well...shall we say, indisposed?
The master bath is located directly above the family room and the sound carries right through the floor! I could hear the boys - all three of them - giggling away then heard Thump, "Whoa!" and then screaming, followed by, "Oh my God!"
Oy Vey! OMG means blood!
Unless it's his own, hubby doesn't handle the sight of blood well. Anyone else's, especially one of the kids, and all bets are off. Composure goes out the window and panic sets in.
He began to scream for me and I foolishly tried to yell a response.
I then heard him wrestling with the gate at the bottom of the stairs while I desperately tried to finish my "business."
He yanked the bathroom door open just as I pulled my pants up and stood there, with a bleeding stuntman in his arms, looking shocked to see me by the toilet. Not sure what he thought I was doing but, "I have to go to the bathroom," usually means one of two things.
I grabbed the first aid box (not kit, we've learned that the small kits just don't cut it for us) out from under the sink and got to work.
Stuntman had bitten his tongue.
Saliva made it look like he was going to bleed to death, but as far as actual blood goes there wasn't much and it stopped bleeding very quickly.
Hubby announced that he had to go back downstairs because, in his state of panic, he'd left the Engineer on the sofa!
Seriously?!
His panicked states are pretty much the same regardless of the circumstances. His ability to think or act rationally just goes right out the window!
The other day while changing the Stuntman's diaper, the stuntman decided to poop. I had the Kitchen Aid whirling away and didn't hear him screaming for me. Suddenly there was loud banging followed by louder, "HELLO!!!"
I sprinted up the stairs to find hubby with a screaming stuntman on the table, legs up in the air as daddy desperately cleaned up the poop. The Engineer was on the floor screaming because daddy's screaming had frightened him.
Ummmm.....Yeah... really?! You were screaming because of poop?!
OMG!
Despite his panic and gagging, there really wasn't much I could do. So I picked up the hysterical Engineer and tried to calm him while trying desperately not to yell at my hubby and upset the babies even more.
Most of the time he's a really laid back guy. Evidently, poop and blood are his kryptonite.
He's one of the handiest hubbies on the world. Need recessed lighting installed? How about hardwood floors? Sheetrock? He's the guy. He really can do anything except walk through a room without hitting a toy.
He. Never. Looks. Down.
We are 13 months into this parenting thing. He has tripped over countless toys. He has fallen down, stubbed his toes, and made things squeak in the dark and yet he has not adjusted his walk.
It's weird. I noticed early on that, while in the house, I had developed a gate that allows me to move forward, without scuffing my feet, by barely lifting my foot off the floor. This way if I do contact something I don't step on it or trip over it, I push it out of the way. Sort of along the same lines as the old trains with the cow catcher on the front.
We have a play-mat that we keep upstairs for the boys. We use the mat more as a home-base for the upstairs toys because we can move it from room to room as needed. At night we usually put it in the hallway out of the line of traffic so we don't trip over it in the dark.
Hubby decided the other night that he would leave it on the floor in the bedroom, precisely placed so as to not trip over it if he had to get one of the kids.
It didn't work.
He tripped.
And tripped.
And tripped.
The mat has these tube things that arch up and connect diagonally at the corners. Once in, it's like trying to get out of a crab trap.
The toys rattled, the one set to come on with motion began to play music and he even stepped on the praying Angel, "Now I lay me down..."
"Shit!"
Snark.
"Shut up," he said with a laugh.
It usually goes like this: Thump, "Whoa!" and then screaming.
This doesn't happen just anytime, it happens when my hubby is with the boys. They love to play with daddy and daddy loves to play with them. The problem is that they get so wound up they lose the ability to control their movements and he doesn't always know when to stop.
The perfect example of this happened yesterday while I was well...shall we say, indisposed?
The master bath is located directly above the family room and the sound carries right through the floor! I could hear the boys - all three of them - giggling away then heard Thump, "Whoa!" and then screaming, followed by, "Oh my God!"
Oy Vey! OMG means blood!
Unless it's his own, hubby doesn't handle the sight of blood well. Anyone else's, especially one of the kids, and all bets are off. Composure goes out the window and panic sets in.
He began to scream for me and I foolishly tried to yell a response.
I then heard him wrestling with the gate at the bottom of the stairs while I desperately tried to finish my "business."
He yanked the bathroom door open just as I pulled my pants up and stood there, with a bleeding stuntman in his arms, looking shocked to see me by the toilet. Not sure what he thought I was doing but, "I have to go to the bathroom," usually means one of two things.
I grabbed the first aid box (not kit, we've learned that the small kits just don't cut it for us) out from under the sink and got to work.
Stuntman had bitten his tongue.
Saliva made it look like he was going to bleed to death, but as far as actual blood goes there wasn't much and it stopped bleeding very quickly.
Hubby announced that he had to go back downstairs because, in his state of panic, he'd left the Engineer on the sofa!
Seriously?!
His panicked states are pretty much the same regardless of the circumstances. His ability to think or act rationally just goes right out the window!
The other day while changing the Stuntman's diaper, the stuntman decided to poop. I had the Kitchen Aid whirling away and didn't hear him screaming for me. Suddenly there was loud banging followed by louder, "HELLO!!!"
I sprinted up the stairs to find hubby with a screaming stuntman on the table, legs up in the air as daddy desperately cleaned up the poop. The Engineer was on the floor screaming because daddy's screaming had frightened him.
Ummmm.....Yeah... really?! You were screaming because of poop?!
OMG!
Despite his panic and gagging, there really wasn't much I could do. So I picked up the hysterical Engineer and tried to calm him while trying desperately not to yell at my hubby and upset the babies even more.
Most of the time he's a really laid back guy. Evidently, poop and blood are his kryptonite.
He's one of the handiest hubbies on the world. Need recessed lighting installed? How about hardwood floors? Sheetrock? He's the guy. He really can do anything except walk through a room without hitting a toy.
He. Never. Looks. Down.
We are 13 months into this parenting thing. He has tripped over countless toys. He has fallen down, stubbed his toes, and made things squeak in the dark and yet he has not adjusted his walk.
It's weird. I noticed early on that, while in the house, I had developed a gate that allows me to move forward, without scuffing my feet, by barely lifting my foot off the floor. This way if I do contact something I don't step on it or trip over it, I push it out of the way. Sort of along the same lines as the old trains with the cow catcher on the front.
We have a play-mat that we keep upstairs for the boys. We use the mat more as a home-base for the upstairs toys because we can move it from room to room as needed. At night we usually put it in the hallway out of the line of traffic so we don't trip over it in the dark.
Hubby decided the other night that he would leave it on the floor in the bedroom, precisely placed so as to not trip over it if he had to get one of the kids.
It didn't work.
He tripped.
And tripped.
And tripped.
The mat has these tube things that arch up and connect diagonally at the corners. Once in, it's like trying to get out of a crab trap.
The toys rattled, the one set to come on with motion began to play music and he even stepped on the praying Angel, "Now I lay me down..."
"Shit!"
Snark.
"Shut up," he said with a laugh.
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